Sometimes ago, I had a dream, one that nearly made me eat my bedsheet. Don't even try to laugh.
So, in the dream it happened that I got a personal invitation to Aso Rock. I even thought maybe I was recognized for my good deeds and was about to get awarded, or maybe they were about to give me a special appointment, but guess what, on getting there I was being carried into the kitchen like a thief and was told His Excellency had been craving for beans and plantain since God knows when, and I was the chosen one to make it. Me, chosen? Am I a chosen? I am not,or maybe I am.
Before I could even talk and object whatever, I found myself already wearing apron and ready for work. I wa told the president has been eating indomie since the last week, that was why he hasn't been showing on the national television and has not granted any interview whatsoever. He's too weak to talk.
I looked around me in the kitchen and saw various ministers, commissioners, speakers, senators and all, well they all happen to be my server and errand boy. I even thought that would be the best place to talk about politics, the economy and the likes, but no, they were all concerned and concentrated on making food for the president.
The minister for foreign affairs who became minister for spoon affairs didn't focus on handing out different spoons to me, he kept shouting and dictating how much salt, pepper, palm oil and the likes I should add.
“Add pepper, the president likes water running through is nose.”
“Isn't bay leaf a part of the ingredients to cook beans.”
“Turn that plantain fast, must it look like me."
The moment I realized this dream of mine has no direction was when the Senate president started fanning the gas fire with the nations approved budget documents.
I made sure I did my best with the cooking. The aroma made it's way through to the president's chamber, and trust me, nothing wey hunger no fit to cause. The president came in, I even thought a whole convoy was coming inside the kitchen, not until I saw the door opened and the president ran in with the minister for agriculture blowing a siren like whistle so loudly.
The president came near me, smiled and said, "give it your best my dear, it will determine your future."
Which future I wanted to ask, but then I just kept shut.
The pressure from the ministers was just too much that I mistakenly poured salt inside the beans. The president looked at me with a side eye, that moment I understood what he meant by "....your future."
I wanted to talk and tell him his ministers are distracting me, but he wouldn't listen. He was bent on tasting the food.
As I was dishing out the food the ministers were clapping, I don't know what the clap was meant for, maybe for a job well done, or as a bye bye to the great beyond. I took it to the president accompanied by the minister for housing who had water in his hands and the commissioner of police also added extra small plate, just in case food fell of the president mouth. He insisted, I almost asked if the president mouth was leaking, but I loved my dear life.
Immediately the president picked up the spoon to taste the food, my neighbor knocked on my door in real life, I could hear the sound coming heavy. Immediately I rose up, rubbed my eyes with my hands and answered her, well she needed matches. I gave it to her, but then I discovered I was smelling like fried plantain.
I looked around and wished I could go back to pack foodstuffs instead of this aroma following me about.
Well, maybe the dream does not make any sense, but if I should be called upon at Aso Rock to cook, trust me I would make sure to fill my kitchen to the brim while making sure to get the ministers and commissioners occupied.
Image was generated using AI.
Thanks for taking your time to read through.